


The Same Story For Different Fools

by LyneOfMidgard



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: AMetricCrapTonOfViolence, ActuallyLikableOCs, Adventure, GenerallyFunnyShit, WittyRetortsGalore, loki is bamf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-08-22 22:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8302816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyneOfMidgard/pseuds/LyneOfMidgard
Summary: You ever notice a scene or two in Thor that didn't QUITE match up? Like where in the scene showing The Vault, though it initially shows two Asgardian guards- Only one body is found?Yeah, turns out there was this Demon who wandered into Asgard one day- Charmed her way in being allowed to stay, and is now The Fine Merchant of Midgard's Intriguing Wares.Who knew?





	1. A Very Merry Good Morning

“Winter, are you in love?” Tea inquired randomly, her question so innocent in color that she never broke stride as she stalked beside her old friend. Her partner, however, froze instantly in the movement of a mid-step. Blinking from her shock, Winter quirked an eyebrow in interest, smiling softly as if she'd simply misheard Tea. Restlessly, Winter's white hair resettled rather dramatically in the gentle breath of wind London whispered on the cool afternoon's air. 

“And a VERY merry good morning to you too, Tea!” Winter greeted warmly, sarcasm twitching the corners of her lips upwards in a mocking grin. “I don't see where this wild accusation is coming from,” Winter heaved a tired sigh, lying a dramatic hand over her heart in mock despair, “You know I'm much too far above falling 'in love', Tea.” Winter lamented, her green eyes sparkling with humour as her 'despair' fell apart at the seams with a good natured laugh passing through her lips.

“Winter, I'm serious!” Tea scolded, her brow pinching sternly as she shot a firm look to Winter, stilling her own footsteps as she turned to face the laughing woman.

“As am I!” Winter retorted, shaking her head in mock disappointment, “I haven't seen you in.. Oh…” She puzzled aloud, frowning softly in thought, “Weeks?” Winter guessed with a waning interest, waving a hand dismissively as she continued, “And this is how you greet me? For shame.”

“Winter, it's been months since we last spoke. Not weeks!” Tea corrected informatively, gesturing her thin arms widely as if this were indeed a FASCINATING revolation that proved her point. Huffing once in victory, Tea rested her delicate hands upon her belted waist, her fingertips barely grazing the series of yarn strands bunched to one side of the belt, dangling thirteen stars of varying size, color, and transparency. Pleased with herself, Tea nodded her head slightly in conquest as she considered the spoils of war. Or rather, their debate. “Your sense of time has always been crooked!”

“Months? Then your hospitality is worse than I thought.” Winter pointed out mercilessly, continuing on as Tea's shoulders slumped forward in the realization of defeat, “I, your long lost friend, have returned to you after months of strife and impending death, and you greet me with accusations and interrogations?” Winter grinned beneath her breath despite her best attempts to deadpan the sarcastic joke.

Playing with Tea, as usual, was delicious.

It was all in good fun, anyway. It wasn't as if Winter intended her any HARM.

“Strife and impending death?” Tea burst out animatedly, bounding upon her black heeled boots with the outbust. Her simply designed, slender dress of green and white shifted animatedly over her shifting form in a mad race to keep up with the excited woman. “Oh!” Tea's blue eyes blinked once in realization, “I hope you remember to save a few new stories for the kids! They adore them! Especially the Greys!” Her beautiful, delicate features brightened at the prospect delightfully.

Winter softened her gaze as a fond smile touched her own features, observing the sight with adoration. Ah, but Tea was beautiful…

“Ack!” Tea exclaimed, her long blonde hair leaping backwards with the rest of her form at a sudden shock. Blinking from her daze, Winter shook her head slightly, the moment dissipating into the air silently, “We're getting off topic!” Tea informed diligently. 

“Are we? A shame.” Winter mockingly lamented with a heavy, despair drawn breath.

“That you're off topic?” Tea inquired, perking upon her heels in a hopeful stance.

“That you noticed. You usually don't.”

“Of course I noticed!” Tea insisted fervently, resting a delicate hand upon where humans imagined their hearts to be, in a spell of dramatics, “I, your devoted, extremely wise-” Winter shot Tea a flat, disagreeable look at the latter. “Friend of an immortal age, have come to recognize the look you get when you are in love..” Tea continued sagely before grinning widely, directing a playful look at Winter with joy, “And woman, you are WHIPPED!”

For the oddest reason, Tea seemed to enjoy the idea of it.

“Firstly, I'm usually the one doing the whipping.” Winter informed brightly as she held up one finger, delighting in the flush of red that invaded Tea's pale cheeks, “Secondly, I don't have a face for when I'm in love.” Winter informed Thirdly, you can't possibly know when I'm in love. The last time I fell in love was.. Oh.. Sixty years ago?”

Seventy four years, six months, two weeks. Winter internally corrected herself, a painful pang running through her guarded heart at the memory. How's that for crooked, Tea? I'm accurate to the day. Winter bitterly chuckled beneath her breath in soft regret. Like a heartbroken fool. 

You'd think I'd learn.

“But wasn't he a renown assassin?!”

“No man is perfect, I simply prefer the ones that have prominent flaws. Otherwise I have to waste the time to FIND the damn things.” Winter dismissed with a shrug flawlessly crafted to appear as if uncaring. In truth, she was done with romance. And everything it brought.

“Besides,” Winter assured, “I can turn it off.”

“Turn what off?” Tea frowned in bafflement, her brow creasing in puzzlement.

“Everything.” Winter rolled her shoulders boredly, “You name it. Emotions, hopes, dreams, long held ethics, attachments.. It's not as hard as you think, it's like a switch. In truth, if an emotion or attachment is longer, or deeper, it's more of a challenge to remove. But even then, the art isn't particularly troublesome.” Winter explained without a particular interest, “It would only take me half a day to destroy anything I've ever felt for you.”

“That's not reassuring at all!” Tea exclaimed with shock, her fair features paling miserably with panic, “So you could just, poof, turn everything off? Anytime you wanted?”

“It's not a 'poof' but yes, I could.” Winter narrowed her eyes in confusion as to the intense reaction for something so mondain to Nightmares, “I don't do it often, if that helps. I tend to get.. Unpredictable, afterwards. Causes more trouble than it fixes.”

“What do you mean by unpredictable?”

“For lack of a better word.”

“But what do you MEAN?”

“Well,” Winter pondered, plucking a flower at her feet to demonstrate her point, “Take something out of your life, something that affected you deeply, taught you kindness, taught you mercy.” Winter invited as she turned the bright blue, delicate flower by the unevenly cut stem, “And then it hurts you.” Winter explained, her tone darkening as she plucked a single petal from the blooming flower's clutch, 

“So you detach it.” Winter continued, digging her nail into the heart of the flower, cutting out the portion the fallen petal had once been attached so naturally to. “How much of yourself, do you imagine, goes with it?” Winter inquired as the flower fell to pieces within her palm, the once vibrant petals swirling towards the ground in despair, “More than you'd think, I assure you.” Winter muttered darkly, tossing the stem of the ruined flower behind her back without a care.

“So, you lose yourself when you do that?” Tea asked, her features deathly paled.

“Just a piece, just the part that cared.” Winter assured, holding out her palms, as if she spoke of harmless topics.

Tea fell silent for a long moment before she directed a stern look to Winter through the safety of her blonde bangs that hung low into her eyes as she dipped her head. “Swear you won't use it anymore.”

“Eh?” Winter frowned in dumbstruck shock. Laughing softly as she recovered, Winter shook her head firmly, “How human of you! I'm not going to-”

“Swear it!” Tea demanded, stepping closer in her persuit of a promise. Winter's breath caught in her throat as she observed the shorter woman who now stood very, VERY close to her own body. Tea smelled gently of various tea leaves and of the warmth of a softly glowing fire. Swallowing once, Winter felt her mind drift and slide as her green eyes quickly grew drunk on the alcohol that was Tea.

Ah, but Tea was beautiful..

“.. I swear.” Winter mumbled softly, as shocked to hear the promise as Tea was.

Laughing with glee, Tea leapt backwards, skipping about the place in a prancing, twirling step of some mad dance. Sighing softly, Winter shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. Lovely.

“Winter,” Tea inquired suddenly, breaking Winter of an internal war consisting of one side stating 'But Tea asked me to!' and the other roaring 'What the HELL did I just say?!' 

“What are you?” Tea asked innocently, her bright blue eyes shimmering with a sudden interest to this area. Winter had never kept her origins a secret; She was, and always would be, immortal through her ability to implant her personality and history into various hosts when one died through a single, well disguised, invention. After all, who would suspect a scratched, tarnished silver pocket watch of immortality?

Even so, it had never interested Tea in the slightest to know further than the basics of such a subject. She did so direly wish that Winter was good, underneath it all, and thus, didn't actually murder those who inhabited the body, and possess the flesh for her own reasons.

It was a fun game to play, she heard.

“Hilarious.” Winter offered with a joking grin dancing across her features.

“Other than that!” Tea insisted, spreading her arms as if to illustrate the grand scale of things, “I mean species wise!”

“Now, that's the complicated bit.” Winter dismissed with a bored shrug, “Like I've told you,” She started, watching Tea with ill amusement as she started the explaination once AGAIN, “As you may recall, I do not die. But my host body might. I simply hop bodies when one.. Expires. This one, as you can tell, is humanoid, for the most part. I change my appearance through a few devices of my invention.” Winter explained quickly, shrugging her shoulders and gesturing dismissively, “Like I've told you before.”

“What if I was curious what you REALLY looked like?” Tea inquired, peering at Winter's form with curious and wide eyes.

“This is what REALLY I look like.” Winter expressed, gesturing to her body with a grand flourish. It wasn't a particularly displeasing body to inhabit, Winter supposed. With a bust large enough to brag about, but not so vast as to get in the way. A slender profile that wove in and out of combat as if in a dance.. She found herself entirely reasonable. 

Well, the human appearance of her flesh was, Winter considered. Often, she changed bits and pieces of her appearance if the mood suited her, or the situation required it. Even her green eyes were a tribute to her mood as of this afternoon. Though, her long, loose white hair never changed, as odd as it appeared. Not because of habit, but rather because she'd managed to piss off the entirely WRONG demon.

“No, I mean deep down!” Tea retorted, slamming her hands down at her sides as a child with a temper often does.

Winter grinned cunningly, leaning forward slightly as if to tell Tea a wicked secret. “I'm just organs and muscle 'deep down'”

“You know what I mean!” Tea burst out, shaking her head in frustration.

“What?” Winter leaned back slightly, her grin turning indulgent, “That the idea that I have a 'true form' applies to me? That I should have any interest in what this host body originally looked like, and should thus feel ANY kinship to it or where it came from?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You put entirely too much weight in what you can't see.” Winter chided as a pack of giggling teenage girls passed by. True to their clique nature, they didn't look up from their phones and friends a single time as the walked on. As such, they slammed directly into a parked vehicle on the side of the road. Rather painfully, too.

Ah, humans.

Another humanoid form caught the corner of Winter's eye, and she quickly turned to see what THEY would walk into. The man was tall, towering far above the heads of those around him, a fact he seemed to REALLY quite enjoy as he strode to the two women with purpose. Perhaps Winter wouldn't have recognized him if his outdated fashion sense hadn't given him away.

But he DID choose to dress as though he were in the 18th century.

And so she DID recognize him.

“Is that so? And what, exactly, does that make you?” Loki inquired in his endlessly charming voice. Tea was immediately impressed, and stared in awe at the towering man. Winter mocked a yawn, stretching her arms above her head as if the mere question made her drowsy.

“Why, ME, of course! Unlike you, I don't fill my time with teenage horse pregnancies, or stealing the hair of women.” Winter dismissed, locking her fingers together as she brought her hands from the open air to across the back of her neck, “Stupid move, by the way. Seems like a terrible way to die, cursed with having 'Tried to steal a chick's hair. Was pummeled to death. The event was funny as Hell' written across your tombstone and whatnot.”

“I imagine most wouldn't take it so far.” Loki scoffed, observing Tea with a charming grin. Tea flushed a bright red and turned to look at Winter with an expression of 'Wow' written across her features. 

“Tch.” Winter hissed between her teeth in annoyance, “You think so, huh?” Winter prompted, placing a particularly convincing smile across her features.

She wasn't jealous.

Definately not.

“Would you have?” Loki returned, studying Winter as if he just looked close enough he could figure out what was slightly.. Off about her smile.

“Oh, yes.”

“You didn't even pause!” Tea threw in, shock draped across her features as she turned between the two of them in alarm. Curiously, Loki returned to studying Tea in interest. Glancing up quickly to Winter, he made a point to take a step closer to Tea, offering his hand in greetings as he muttered some formal introduction with a charming grin.

“I didn't have to.” Winter dismissed through clentched teeth. Taking a breath to calm herself, she ran her slender fingers through her white hair absently as she continued, “Touch my hair without my consent,” Or what's mine, “And I'm gutting you like a fish.”

Or what's mine.

Silently, Winter closed her eyes, shaking her head forcefully as she dismissed the thought.

Tea wasn't hers.

“Duly noted.” Loki joked, rolling his eyes once as he turned his attention to Winter in interest.

“Now,” Winter breathed, resting her back upon the nearest building wall and resting the bottom of her leather boot upon the surface absently, “What is you want, Loki?” Winter asked bluntly.

Loki blinked at the accusation, playing the part of the wrongfully prosecuted innocent rather well, “Can I not simply visit-”

“I've been on Earth for two months.” Winter cut in, nodding her head forward to punctuate her point, “You haven't visited once. Besides, visiting isn't in your nature.” Winter pointed out, crossing her arms before her chest in suspicion as she regarded Loki.

She'd known him since he was nearly 800, and the only time he took such a roundabout approach to asking her a question was when he KNEW she would decline. 

“I have come to inquire as to your plans for travel.” He started innocently, absently folding his hands behind his back as he straightened his formal posture.

“I'm not traveling anywhere.”

“Perhaps I should be more clear.” Loki's eye twitched as he tried really very hard to disguise his annoyance to the short answer, “I have come to invite you to an event that will interest you.”

“I'm not traveling anywhere.”

“You haven't heard the event, that's likely why.” Loki threw on a charming grin that stretched at the seams.

He REALLY wanted her to be there, apparently.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Winter dismissed with a frown, “I know the way YOU like to travel, and I'm saying no.” Winter informed sternly locking her gaze with Loki's in an irritated test of will between the two.

“Why's that?” Tea inquired with a timid smile as she shirked away from the terrifying contest.

“The society Loki's from only know of two ways of transportation.” Winter explained, stubbornly narrowing her eyes at Loki before turning to address Tea. “One, being the Bifrost, and the other being a god damn Sky Ship.”

Her adoration for the vehicle dripped from her words in abundance.

“Uh.. What's wrong with a sky ship?” Tea prodded the wound naively.

“I'm not going on one.” Winter stated firmly. “Ever.” She added as she threw Loki a venomous look to punctuate her point.

“The event will NOT require transportation through a ship.” Loki defended, directing a particularly charming smile Winter's way as he continued trivially, “We'd use the Bifrost.”

Winter threw her head back and burst out laughing so hard her sides began to hurt almost instantly, “Haha! That's-It's-You're” Breathlessly, Winter attempted the English language a moment, before giving up, and simply guffawing at the idea. “Hahaha!”

“What's wrong with the Bifrost?” Tea frowned in curiousity.

Chuckling breathlessly, Winter tilted her head back slightly, eyeing the open sky above as she spoke, “It's attached to a city I was BANNED from.” Winter informed, her voice softening with regret. Clearing her throat once, Winter directed her gaze to Tea, stubbornly ignoring the fact Loki was watching her with sadness. “The Bifrost picks up people from one place, brings them to Asgard. If we were to use it for transportation, we would have to briefly return to Asgard before being sent another place. Isn't that right, Loki?” Winter prompted, shaking her head as she exhaled a homesick breath. 

Perhaps.. She did miss that golden city. At least a little bit.

“It would involve briefly returning to Asgard, yes.”

“And..” Winter started, directing a disagreeable look to Loki, “Remind me again, WHAT happened the last time I went back to Asgard?”

“You don't seem to need reminding.”

“What happened?” Tea pitched in brightly, ignorant to the glares shot between the two. Loki was irritated (and rightly so, in his opinion) over how challenging it was to persuade a certain woman to consider an event. And Winter was annoyed (and rightly so, in her opinion) how Loki reminded her of what she'd lost.

“HE told me that he had cooked up some new spell that would keep people from seeing me. Even Heimdall. Turned out, this wasn't the case, and I wound up with a VERY angry gatekeeper trying to take my head! I had to use MY short range teleporter and skip through the entire city until I could find a portal back!”

“The spell needed more work.” Loki admitted as though the mere recollection of such events pained him, “Regardless, your presence is expected this time.”

“Must be one hell of an event..” Winter considered.

“It is indeed.”

“...What's the event, EXACTLY?”

“A coronation.”

Winter grinned crookedly, leaning forward as she removed her back from the wall in earnest. “Count me in.”


	2. The Liv-Chen-Sted Room and its Inhabitants

“Remind me once more how it is, precisely, that you know this woman.. Tea?” Loki tried the odd name cautiously as he made a point to meladramatically lean forward in a humorous attempt to search Winter's features for a reaction to the mention. Winter's lip twitched upwards in humor as she stepped through the low hanging doorway and into the packed apartment it guarded. “It's not 'reminding' if I've never told you, Loki.” Winter pointed out, taking care to whisper his name in a softened, sultry tone.

The sound of a loud crack filled the tight room as Loki's distracted skull slammed forcifully into the top of the doorframe. As usual, the door lost the duel. And it lost really very badly. Pressing the palm of his hand to the already swelling bruise on his forehead, Loki shot Winter a 'you did that on purpose' look of accusation before ducking through the dented doorway and into the apartment.

“What a pathetic excuse for a structure. LIVESTOCK have more room than this meager dwelling provides..” Loki spat in distaste, directing a vengeful glare to the direction of the door in a short temper.

Loki and Winter's apartment never got along, to say the least.

Loki detested the lack of space, and was gaining QUITE the vocabulary on how to voice such opinion. While Winter's apartment, conversely, adored the little things in life. Which consisted primarily of beating the shit out of Loki. 

“So I've heard.” Winter chuckled softly as she outstretched her aching arms into the cramped air, wincing as her sore muscles complained rather loudly at the action. Sighing softly in satisfaction as the pain lessened almost immediately, Winter dropped her arms to her side, regarding Loki with an amused smile, “You were saying?”

“What about?” Loki inquired with a jokingly serious expression as he lifted his palm from his now rather red injury, “I seem to have had the information knocked out of me.”

“Tea.” Winter offered with an indulgent grin, “You were asking me about her, now that she's gone away on an errand.”

“Ah yes, Tea.” Loki nodded his head as if suddenly recalling the subject, “How is it you know her?”

Winter turned her attention toward the center of the darkened room absently as she stalked beneath the barely visible ceiling fan. Tugging once on the dangling cord, light flooded through the room instantly, dismissing the dark, lurking shapes that once hid pointy items with a cruel tendancy of violence. “We met some time back.”

“And?”

“Spoke.”

“Your talent for story telling is unmatched.” Loki smirked sarcastically, turning his eye over the cramped interior of the apartment with disdain. Pressed tightly into the furthest corner, rested a double bed clad with strewn blankets and discarded articles of clothing. Crowded at the foot of the bed rested a vanity decorated weightedly with various, intricately designed pieces of jewlery, so much so, that the mirror's surface was nothing more than a tapestry for hanging pendants.

To the immediate left of the apartment's enterance laid a tightly compacted 'kitchen', but only in the most optimistic form of the word. Consisting of a mini-fridge with a small pile of dry food atop, a stand alone sink, a gast stove top and two gloriously stained countertops seperating the applications. With a distinct lack of cabinets, random dry food was scattered about the place in the oddest of places. Including cereal boxes filling the oven itself.

Opposite of the kitchen and to the immediate right of the apartment's enterance, rested the crookedly hanging doorway into the bathroom.

Somewhere, in the non-existant space between the 'bedroom' and the 'kitchen' / 'bathroom', rested the 'living room' which consisted primarily of a single love seat and a coffee table turned to face a short and stumpy television set.

Loki enjoyed pointing out that because each 'room' consisted of, at most, 6 inches of space, it was not a 'home' or a 'building', but rather a single room created from the combination of all the rest. And so, to him, it became known as the Liv-Chen-Sted Room.

Heaving a dramatically weighted sigh, Winter slunk backwards onto the couch sarcastically, knotting her fingers together as she rested her hands behind her head boredly. “We were lovers, some time ago.” Winter breathed, a fond sort of smile falling across her lips as Loki moved to claim the seat beside her. The smile fell to a sympathetic wince as Loki's shin slammed painfully into the table set before the love seat. Gnashing his teeth in an annoyed temper, Loki made a point to move AROUND the furniture. Only to tip over the television itself with his deliberate movements initially designed to NOT destroy things.

“Just leave it, I'll sort it out later.” Winter offered with a thoughtful grin as she rose, “I've got an idea, hold on,” Winter muttered as she lifted the now VERY badly cracked coffee table, shifted it onto it's side, and rested it against the counters of the 'kitchen'. “Nearly married, at some point.” Winter informed as she did the very same to the damaged television, as if she spoke of simple, trivial matters. Her eyes, however, held the sorrow of the past. “It's all very fascinating, I suppose. If you've never heard it before, that is.” Winter gestured grandly to the now very open and available (A whole 6 inches!) love seat, in a wordless expression of, care to try again?

Winter found that sometimes, words weren't particularly necessary when a single look between the two of them was enough. It was an odd practice and one that she couldn't recall the start of. Though, it was particularly useful from time to time.

And it was oddly comforting, as absurd as it sounded.

“Next question? You look like you're brimming with them.” Winter inquired, as Loki took a formal seat to the left side of the seat. Stretching her arms before her, Winter slunk back into the other side with a tired groan. 

“Earth does not suit you.” Loki joked, gesturing towards Winter with a half smile playing across his lips, “You seem tired.”

“You seem bruised.” Winter countered with a grin.

“I DO look forward to explaining these.” Loki laughed easily, gesturing towards his many new injuries with a hand, “I've fought in wars and received less than this.”

“My apartment IS pretty badass.”

Loki grinned in challenge as he regarded Winter, turning sideways in his seat as he leaned forward slightly, obviously pleased with the new game, “Who are the Greys that Tea mentioned? And why is it they adore your stories?” He prompted curiously, a gleam of interest crossing his gaze.

“The Greys are Tea's twins.” Winter explained shortly, pivoting in her own seat to regard Loki face to face, “Earl Grey,” She held up one finger illustratively as if speaking to a child, “And Lady Grey.” A second finger joined the first, “She has thirteen children, and they're all named after various types of tea, hence..” Winter finished, dramatically flourish either hand with a smile, “The Greys.”

“Tea mentioned immortality.”

“Yes, she did.”

“A human isn't immortal.” Loki condemned argumentatively.

“Not on their own, no.” Winter argued condemingly. “Believe it or not,” She stopped shortly after she began her explanation as a yawn fell over her features. “But-” Winter continued, shaking her tired head slowly to dismiss the drowsiness that clung to her features, “Your Golden Apples hold several similarities to a flower that grows on a very distant planet. Yeccin. Lovely name, I know. It LOOKS terrifying, it really does.” Winter fawned, throwing an expressive gesture over her shoulder with a beaming grin, “Black and red, and spiked.. The kind of thing you'd NEVER eat. Ever. But, it does have the same effect of your Golden Apples. And besides that,” Winter grinned wolfishly, “I hear it makes the BEST tea.”

“I've been dosing her with it for the past two hundred years.” Winter finished, a proud smile crossing her features briefly as she recalled the feat.

“And she's never noticed?” Loki frowned in bafflement, utterly baffled to the very idea of such glorious levels of naivity. 

“Tea isn't the most observant woman.” Winter dismissed with a soft smile placing itself pleasantly upon her lips, “Apparently,” Winter whispered dryly, as if sharing a secret, “The mix tastes like mint.” Winter sighed exhaustively as she leaned forward slightly, absently resting her elbows upon Loki's crossed legs comfortably.

“She believes that MINT tea is what has kept her alive for 200 years?” Loki indulged with a fond grin, looking down at Winter for a long moment in interest before continuing, “What about the fact that everyone else has access to the same herb?”

“Like I said,” Winter informed suddenly, restlessly leaning back in her seat as she tore her attention elsewhere firmly, “Tea isn't the most observant woman.” Winter informed the kitchen before turning in her seat. She quickly rose from the love seat, and, as an afterthought, mischieviously ran a hand through Loki's dark hair. Purposefully tangling his long dark hair into a mess, much to his obvious displeasure.

Loki scowled unflatteringly, glaring at Winter with a vengeance as he meticulously trailed his fingers through his hair, repairing the catastrophic damage with a foul temper. Winter laughed victoriously, cutting a playful look his way before striding the astonishingly long distance (A whole 8 inches) to her bed. 

Crouching, Winter heaved a heavy chest from beneath the bed, the damn thing kicked and spat the entire way out, obnoxiously getting caught on various objects beneath the bed. Unbuckling the clasp of the faded leather chest, Winter flung the top open, revealing a collection of clothing ranging from many different planets and worlds.

“What are you doing?” Loki wondered curiously, rising from the seat in interest. Only to, of course, slam his skull into the low hanging roof. A loud cracking noise filled the room as Loki stumbled back into the seat, briefly dazed. The roof, however, was terribly broken up about the entire event.

Absolutely shattered, really.

“Getting dressed.” Winter explained, pointedly refusing to look up as she rifled through the clothing pile, “I'm going out to get a drink.”

“A drink?” Loki pressed, wincing as he prodded the top of his skull, and dusting the ceiling plaster off his dark hair.

“I refuse to return to Asgard, however briefly, without being even remotely hung over and / or being currently drunk.” Winter informed, lifting a black dress with a red sash from her collection and displaying it to her eye. 

May as well have a little fun while she was out, Winter figured.

Loki directed a seething glare to Winter's unknowing back upon the mention of Asgard and her supposed disdain for such. Winter belonged on Asgard. She always had.

She always would.

Turning his attention elsewhere, Loki reminded his annoyed temper that there was, in fact, a plan in place to return things to the way they were previously. No, he corrected himself, to improve things. The plan would make everything better.

He just needed a little more TIME. Which the coronation would provide. As well as quite a bit of fun.

Blinking in interest, Loki tilted his head in fascination as he leaned forward to peer at an oddly mesmorizing corner of fabric from beneath the now crooked couch. Curiously, Loki collected the artifact and stretched it out before his gaze. To his knowledge, it appeared as though a single stretch of rectangular cloth, complete with frayed edges. The pattern stretched across the fabric, however, was hypnotic in its simple and orderly tangle of white and black. “This is yours?” Loki shook the cloth once as Winter strode towards the bathroom. Winter blinked in interest, considering the piece.

“Hmm? Well, yes.” She admitted easily, “Tea handed me the fabric. For the oddest reason, she thought I should learn to sew. She wouldn't leave me alone about it, too. So I cut the fabric into a nice little rectangle, and told her it was a scarf. She was not amused.” Winter laughed at the fond memory, and, decidedly not going to indulge the trinket any longer, disappeared into the crowded bathroom, pushing the door shut behind her.

Thoughtfully, Loki toyed with the fabric between his fingertips, rather enjoying the texture. “You dislike sewing?” He inquired absently to the closed door.

“What would give you THAT impression?” Winter laughed, her voice echoing through the closed room loudly. Cracking the door open, Winter poked her head out into the room, her bare shoulder visible from the crack, her white hair tossed over the open flesh, “You can keep it, if you like.” Winter informed with a bored shrug, “Find some use for the damn thing. Every time Tea comes over, she sees it and gets reminded that I STILL don't know how to sew.”

Turning the 'scarf' in his hands, Loki considered the odd, fraying thing with interest.

“Then I'll keep it. I'm sure I'll find some use for it.” Loki concluded simply, a fond smile crossing his features.

There was something oddly charming about the article.


	3. The Lost Art of Spooning

The first few hours in the club consisted mainly of Winter reordering the same drink, of which she couldn't even recall what it was ORIGINALLY, and Loki sampling every drink the bar had available; all to come to the glorious conclusion that they were all 'not even remotely as good as mead'.

By the twentieth glass, Winter was starting to sway slightly in her seat while Loki remained completely stationary and had an obnoxious tendancy to observe her with amusement. Damn Asgardians, Winter cursed sourly, drinking alcohol like it's water since birth.

“I know that woman.” Loki concluded loudly. And although his handsome voice bellowed at an astonishing volume, he was hardly heard over the deafening roar of the pounding music the club was all too pleased to blast.

It was as if the club's management couldn't fathom that the song 'Call Me Maybe' was outdated, pitchy and frankly obnoxious to hear it the third time in a row.

Who knew?

“That's the creepiest pick up line I've ever heard.” Winter informed bluntly, raising her nearly emptied drink to the air in a mock toast. “And that's saying a lot. I've heard a good number.” Chuckling softly, Winter gestured grandly to the mentioned woman with her free hand. “Go on. Go tell her it.” She dared him tauntingly before bringing the glass to her lips and finishing the drink in a single swallow.

Oddly, behind the burn of the alcohol the concoction tasted of raspberries, of all things.

“Should be hilarious. Even from all the way back here.” Winter concluded, lowering the glass with a wolfish grin stretching across her features.

“I do know her,” Loki defended pointedly, stopping for a moment to eye Winter's drink with distaste, “She's one of my Lokeans.” He informed bluntly, his very expression changing on a dime as delight replaced disgust in every mentioned word upon the new subject of the, 'Lokeans'.

“Is that your new nickname for your brood?” Winter guessed bluntly, swaying slightly as she placed the empty glass upon the bar with a solid thud. “Because it fits.” She informed with a slightly drunken grin thrown Loki's way.

“I don't have a brood.” Loki dismissed adruptly, shifting his gaze from the Lokean as if the rudimentary architecture of the club suddenly fascinated him the moment that she happened to throw a glance his way. 

There wasn't much to look at, int Winter's opinion. A bar lined one side of the room, the great slab of polished stone played the role of the counter, lined with sleek, modern looking stools to one side, and a wall filled to the brim with various alcohols closed tightly upon the other. The dance floor across the room was a blur of odd, variously unflattering dance moves, that consisted mainly of wild haired women scaring the hell out of far younger men by trying to appear sexy.

The blue haired one was going to give her nightmares, Winter concluded with a stunned expression as her own gaze mistakingly wandered across the room. Terrifying.

“How many children do you have? Exactly?” Winter inquired playfully, as she absently pivotted on her stool to face Loki for a moment before she turned her shining eyes to stare bluntly at the brightest light available.

Hoping to sear that horrific image from behind her eyes.

Loki's brow furrowed and his lips moved as if mouthing the hundred different names of his offspring as he attempted to count the number of his children in a comedic fashion. “… I may have a brood.” He concluded jokingly, raising his hands with a small span between his open palms to demonstrate minor size, “A small one.”

“Che,” Winter breathed between her teeth in mock disbelief, “A small one, he says..” She scolded jokingly before she gestured grandly to the reluctant bar keeper to refill her drink. The bar keeper eyed Winter's state with an experianced and weathered eye. Upon concluding that avoiding her venomous glare was worth at least one more drink, he wisely refilled the mysterious concoction in Winter's grip.

“Lokeans are modern humans who follow Norse mythology.” Loki declared boastfully, raising his own drink to his lips with a smug grin drawn across his handsome features. Swallowing once, Loki's pride shifted to complete disgust upon tasting the flavor of the drink and he quite simply found that he couldn't rid himself of the glass fast enough. “Myths and legends about yours truly in particular.” He finished before wincing at the memory of the foul taste of the alcohol as his mind slipped from the prideful matter. “That is rancid.” Loki concluded firmly, directing a seething glare to the drink.

This was, unsurprisingly, much to the distaste of the barkeeper just behind the counter, who threw his arms upwards and stormed out of the place, taking care to slam the club's door behind him.

“You just chased my incredibly handsome provider of alcohol away.” Winter scolded, lifting her refilled drink to her lips with a mock sigh of misery before indulging his favored topic with a soft grin twitching across her features. “And, how is it you know about Lokeans, anyway?” She inquired coyly over the lip of her drink.

“How is it I COULDN'T?” Loki shot back arrogantly, pleased for a single instant before noting Winter's thirst for the mysterious drink. Breathing a sigh of frustration through his teeth, Loki pointedly laid his fingertips upon the lip of the drink, lifting it easily from Winter's unimpressed grip. Eyeing the contents of the glass for a moment, Loki's lips curled up in a disgusted sneer, “This,” He concluded, holding the drink out at arm's length, “Is a poor substitute for mead.”

“You are being VERY rude to my drink.” Winter bluntly informed, leaning forward in her seat slightly as she crossed her aggravated arms before her low cut dress in intoxicated annoyance. “I think you owe it an apology.” Winter glared curtly, tilting her head slightly in challenge as her eyes narrowed further. Loki regarded Winter's expression for a long moment calculatingly before he made a point to pour the drink's contents into the floor behind the counter.

“Oops. It spilled.” Loki lamented.

Winter chuckled dryly, shaking her head loosely as she turned her gaze towards Loki with ill amusement, “It's almost like you're cross with me, Loki.”

“Who, me? Be cross at you for making more of an effort to accustom yourself with the rancid flavor of Midgardian drinks, than to return to Asgard?” Loki mocked a shocked expression, making a point of dropping his jaw and widening his eyes mockingly before a huge grin spread crookedly across his features and ruined the game. “How unlike me.”

Winter stood, smiling sweetly as she brought her own features a hair's width from Loki's. “I'm not going back.” She informed with a soft, tantalizing breath, a coy smile playing across her features. “Stop asking, lovely, it makes you look desperate.” She advised plainly.

“Who's asking?” Loki grinned pleasantly, eyes gleaming with the pride of a child who just got their way. “Go play with your Lokean.” Winter dismissed slyly as she slid past Loki's form with a slippery grin, making a point of snatching the drink before she disappeared into the thrumming mass of the dance floor. 

Winter pointedly ignored that the drink she now held in her hand was decidedly rather similar to Asgardian Mead and tasted nothing of raspberries.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

This isn't going well, Loki concluded with a frown, his brow creasing as he attempted to rework his grand plan around the sudden, unfortunate, change in events.

I HATE when things don't go well.

It doesn't even make sense, he thought bitterly, sharp barbs of annoyance piercing the statement generously, It shouldn't be this hard to persuade her to return!

Midgard doesn't exactly offer much. Aside from rush hour traffic and horrific music.

Other than that wide array of delicacies, Loki was at a loss for any other reason anyone would indulge a single visit to the ever-changing world. Let alone spend more time there than Asgard.

“Hello,” LilithMae, Loki added the name to himself, holding back a knowing smile as he approached the familiar woman who spent her time guarding her drink at the bar's counter with a bored look about her. As usual, her gaze slipped over the world as if seeing another one entirely, and grinning crookedly to herself, she seemed quite delighted by the stories that the said world told her. 

“Hey! You look a bit familiar!” LilithMae exclaimed, grinning wolfishly at the prospect as she gestured to Loki's face with a slightly tanned hand, “No really! You look just like-”

Loki grinned with relief to hear his old friend recognized him, excitedly, he interrupted smoothly with a prideful, “I am Loki of Asgard, and-” 

LilithMae's face fell, her almond shaped dark brown eyes filling quickly with suspicious and distrust. “-Tom Hiddleston.” Her charcoal lipstick clad lips finished her initial statement bluntly.

Suddenly the picture of annoyance, LilithMae shot Loki a seething glare as she rested her hands upon her hips, “I'm LilithMae, of Not Buying Your Bullshit. You wanna pose as Loki, huh?” She inquired rhetorically, crossing her arms over her loose black tank top reading 'We're All Mad Here' in white cursive. Upon the inside of one of her forearms rested a twisting tattoo of Jorgumand devouring his own tail. “Then who's Sigyn?”

“Pardon?” Loki frowned in puzzlement observing the shorter woman with baffled interest. “I realise I may look different now than a few centuries ago-”

“Who's Sigyn?” LilithMae pressed, leaning forward slightly in annoyance. “Geez, you really didn't think this ruse through, huh?” The woman's stature switched as amusement flew across her features, the rustle of shifting cloth was drowned out by the pounding music filling the air as her frilled knee length skirt adjusted over her black combat boots. 

“Who was Sigyn supposed to get married to before Loki tricked her?” LilithMae continued mercilessly, tucking a loose strand of her immensely long, unruly hair behind her ear, “Don't know that one either, huh? How about an easy one, huh?” She goaded, “Name one of Loki's children.”

“Ha!” Loki beamed excitedly, “Now that I can do!”

“-With Sigyn.”

“… I'm beginning to think that you've made this 'Sigyn' up so that I will fail these questions.”

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

“So,” Winter breathed, leaning forward in her new perch further down the bar's counter. Her cheeks were still flushed from the sudden spell of dancing, added considerably with an astounding amount of alcohol, “Let me get this straight..” Winter smiled crookedly as she brought her newly ordered drink to her lips, her grin widening as she regarded the truth Loki had informed her so shortly of. 

“She threw a spoon at you.”

“What's shocking is that there was no cutlery anywhere nearby.”

“It must have been in her drink, then.”

“You'd think so, but no.”

“Sleeve?”

“No.”

“Seat?”

“No.”

“.. Well,” Winter concluded, frowning in puzzlement as she considered the tale, “That's impressive.” She informed with an intoxicated laugh before throwing down the entire glass in one swallow.

“What are you drinking NOW?” Loki scowled, taking in the appearance of Winter's empty drink with a glare.

Winter frowned curiously as she turned the empty glass to meet her swaying gaze, trying to recall what the hell the bubbling red concoction WAS exactly. “… I don't honestly know.” Winter concluded after a long moment.

“Tastes like coke, though.” She informed boldly.

“It's not even remotely as good as mead.”

“Again with the mead!” Winter exclaimed, rocking in her chair slightly from the force of the outburst. Shocked, Winter threw an uncoordinated hand outward, clutching at the counter to stop her fall. The unstable action, of course, only made things worse.

Loki heaved a dramatic breath as he placed a steadying hand on the top of Winter's head, his spread fingertips tangling in her loose hair as he halted the fall simply. 

Unimpressed, Winter huffed as she looked up bluntly at Loki's hand in disagreement of its neccessity. “If you want to ask me a question, you better ask it outright. I'm not feeling particularly sober.”

“I can tell.” Loki informed condescendingly as he took a seat beside her, pointedly not removing his hand, “You have the alcohol tolerance of a child!” He scolded in amusement.

Damn Asgardians, Winter thought groggily, drinking alcohol like it's water since birth.

“Go on.” Winter scoffed, knocking his hand from her head with an uncoordinated gesture, “Insult the drunk woman. Picture of classiness, that is.” Turning her waning attention towards the new barkeeper who's shift had just started, Winter waved the man over with a boisterous laugh. “Oi! You! Liquor boy!”

“Where you runnin' to?” Winter's brow furrowed in drunken confusion as the man turned on his heel and made for the exit, “Get your scrawny ass back here! I'm not finished drinking yet!”

“Shouted like a true Asgardian.” Loki mocked, leaning backwards in thought as he assessed the prime opportunity that presented itself before him. “Well, there is a benefit to your drunken state.” Loki thought aloud, a sly grin stretching across his features cunningly, “You're much more likely to answer the hard questions that you tend to avoid sober.”

“I'm not drunk!” Winter insisted.

“What's your name?”

Winter paused a long moment as she scoured her memory for such an intricate detail. It didn't help that she had a fair number of the damn things. 

“…. Chimonas.” Winter declared, grinning pleasantly as the very sound of the name tasted rather familiar upon her tongue. That HAD to be it.

“Well, you proved me wrong.” Loki informed with a slow, unimpressed blink, “If you were actually drunk,” He starting cunningly, leaning forward in his seat with a weighted sigh, “You may have actually explained why you got yourself banished from Asgard.” Loki lamented mournfully, directing a sorrow filled glance towards Winter in a hefty depression, “I was so interested in the answer.”

“Oh, come on, you're not that daft!” Winter confided drunkenly, swayed noticably by the dramatics of the incredibly saddened man before her, “You've got to know it's because-” She blinked in distraction, taking in Loki's appearance with a hazed mind. “The edges of the scarf are showing.” She informed.

Loki hissed between his teeth in withheld frustration as he threw a dismissive glance towards the 'scarf's' frayed edges that peeked out from beneath the coat. Of all the things..

“You were in the middle of a thought.” Loki prompted helpfully as he tucked the edges of the cloth away. “Because why?”

“Betcha you tried to correct the lie after I left!” Winter boasted with a wide grin, as if it were a true triumph she managed the simple sentence, “Even though I practically shouted at you not to! Didn't work out, huh?” She inquired rhetorically, her drunk grin stretching upon the pleasing idea. “Guess people think you're a liar when you lie to 'em too often. Who knew?”

“You knew I couldn't fix it when you claimed credit. You knew it was irreversible.” Loki condemned, dropping the facade of misery as his eyes gleamed with a dangerous curiousity. “You did it anyway. Tell me why.”

“Don't blame yourself! Everyone saw me with that snake, hours before the event.” She continued, oblivious to Loki's irritation, “Everyone knew that you spent more time in my company than you should have, so you'd have more of an interest to take credit for something I'VE done.” She added, nodding her head in agreement to her own words, “You're, let's face it, the God of Deceit and Lies to the old humans.. And, to top it all off, I got there first.” Winter declared boldly, lying a proud hand over her heart in triumph, “My story was the first one Odin heard. And that's-” she raised her drink in victory, a dry smile twitching across her lips as the full realization of her words reached her drunken mind, “the only one that counts.”

“I know how you did it. I want to know why.” Loki insisted, removing the spilling glass from Winter's waning grip. Winter was a particular drunk, in Loki's experience. She acted sober until a certain number, then spilled the wildest of tales and secrets (And she had quite the number of them) on every drink past. 

Interestingly, Winter could not recall anything from such a point or onwards. Providing the perfect time to wrestle the truth from her tight grip. Any more alcohol, however, Loki concluded, and it was likely she'd-

A slam filled the air as Winter's head fell limply forward, pounding weightedly onto the bar's counter in unconcious defeat.

-Pass out.

“…. You have the alcoholic tolerance of a child.” Loki stated bluntly as he lifted Winter's drink to his own lips, shifting the alcohol within into a fine mead.


	4. What Lies Behind The Mirrors

.

 

_1,551 years ago_

 

.

 

Daxidaille was dead, that much was undeniable. The rotting corpse of the decaying world writhed upon the ash coated ground, infested with maggots, worms, and the horrors of the past. Its only comfort as the sky darkened above its carcas as Hell itself descended, was that the viscious race of Nightmares were nothing but bones strewn across its stagnant fields.

 

Well.. All except for two.

 

The air was thick with misery and madness, as it always was, as it always had been. The world of Daxidaille was a barren wasteland of cliffs and sudden drops generously strewn about the eye's view, the crashing of roaring water pounded the thick air with malice beneath the crumbling crevices. The ink black ocean of Insanity led furiously into the horizon beyond the end of the landscape.

 

The rasp of injured breath gasped over the babblings of the ocean as a blur of red sprinted across the ragged landscape in leaps and staggering bounds. Gnashing her teeth in a pained snarl, the hooded figure threw a panicked look backwards, the harsh light of the three dying suns above casting weighted shadows across the woman's bleeding face. Droplets of blackened blood flew into the air at the quick action, wordless testimates to the grievance wounds marring her flesh.

 

The woman ducked suddenly, her singed cloak billowing around her mutilated form as she dove to the side desperately.

 

A scythe sliced through the air over head, the sound of metal ringing through the dead air in madness. “Oh!” The armored man crooned, flipping the scythe's handle expertly in his gauntlet clad hand as his black horse streaked past, “That was an _impressive_ dodge, **Trophy**!” Grinning violently, the man yanked upon the  reins of the horse mercilessly, bringing the beast to a staggering circle towards the recovering woman. 

 

“I am no  _ trophy _ of yours, Atdis.” The woman hissed bluntly, charging the opposite direction with bleeding, bare feet. Clicking his tongue mockingly, Atdis spun the handle of the scythe skillfully as the black horse sped forward obediantly. “ That evasion was p _ redictable, _ Trophy!  You're losing your touch! ” Atdis scolded, dragging the sharpened blade along the ground a moment before slashing upwards in a cruel attempt to bisect the fleeing woman.

 

She leapt  from the edge of the cliff face and into the open air, her tattered cloak flailing dramatically behind her before she disappeared beneath the edge of the dead soil.

 

Frowning sulkily in disappointment, Atdis struck the horse towards the crumbling edge of the cliff, the creature panting profusely with steaming skin as Atdis peered over the precipice in absent minded dejection.

 

The sky above was as dark as midnight, only without the gleaming stars above to keep onlooker's hopes high and hearts warmed. The pitch black misery above was filled, rather with three planetary figures, lined perfectly crooked with one another and they glared down at the occupants of the dead land with hatred. There were three Goddesses within Daxidaille, once. And each, of course, drew power from their respective Aboves.

 

The smallest planet perched upon the sky's grin was The HellCastor Above, which had a tendancy, like the legendary figure it was named for, to disappear at a random whim, only to appear at the oddest, and most unsettling of places.

 

Set before the HellCastor Above rested The Death Above, which loomed imposingly close to the barren world of Daxidaille with a maliciously grinning crevice dividing its features in two.

 

The final hanging planet was entitled Tasaria Above, it was a soft shade of blue, but not in the calming sense the inhabitants of Earth enjoyed just through the mirrors, no. Rather, it was the same sort of blue that came after death, the same shade that preceded decay, and the same hue that destruction ended in. It was, simply put, the same shade as the admittance of an endless defeat.

 

Across the crevice, the horizon was illuminated by a thick, gory red smoke that clung desperately to the line of sight, the same delicious shade of dying blood, and mutilated muscle that painted through the black sky in a horrific contrast. In the distance, balanced precariously between the mountains of the Hells, stretched a gruesome castle born from terror and fear. The intimidating structure loomed over the mountain faces, its stones black as night, and shaped to curl to offensive points at the ends in hatred. The very essence of the castle itself seemed to toy with the world below with a sadistic malice, bristling at any who dared to look upon its walls with the excited joy of a mistakingly provoked predator.

 

Atdis turned his unimpressed gaze towards the bottom of the precipice at his feet, leaning over the side of the panting horse to do so in repentance.

 

He hadn't  _ meant _ for the fun to be over so quickly.

 

Dismounting, Atdis leaned over the cliff's edge, peering below with an interested eye. Noting the fact that blackened blood pooled at an indent in the face below, a wolfish grin stretched over Atdis's lips.

 

She'd survived.

 

But not for much longer, Atdis promised himself with a playful grin.

 

Leaping adruptly, Atdis slammed onto the unstable lip below, the ground trembling from the new weight beneath his boots. “My,  _my!_ Look at  _you_ !” Atdis whispered wickedly, turning upon his heel to face the cornered woman with a charming, demented grin. “That  _was_ impressive, Madness.”

 

“ _Aw_ ! You remembered my  _name_ ! With a mind as  **despairingly small** as yours, I'm really quite flattered you chose to fill an entire  _ half  _ of its  **limited** capacity with such a trinket!” Madness taunted, her shifting footsteps lifting the powdery soil from its eternal resting place as she cunningly strode around the small space of the indent within the cliff face, rounding upon Atdis, who's back remained to the edge.

 

Her burnt cloak twisted and writhed with every movement, the destroyed folds moving back to reveal a torn and tattered dress that once might have appeared rather grand. Now it hung in slivers and slices, the longest strands of which, collected around her bleeding bare feet. Madness's breath was thin and ragged, matching her blood stained body that trembled with injury and disfiguration. The hood covering her features had fallen down her back in the wild leap, revealing her marred face smeared with blood, and her white hair of an uneven, tattered length.

 

“Looks like you've run out of places to run,” Atdis goaded, his own steps rounding the circular indent to mirror Madness's. “Finally.”

 

Madness's steps stopped adruptly as her heel glanced the edge of the lip, her final foot fall cruelly disrupting the resting place of dismembered shards of long deceased bones of others who had taken useless shelter within the very crevice they now stood. The remains tumbled over the edge, crackling and snapping as it slammed time and time again against the cliff face before slamming into the sharpened rocks far below, only to be lapped up by the sea of Insanity as it spilled over the boulders.

 

Madness turned her gaze thoughtfully over the precipice, a tired sort of smile twitching across her lips as she turned to Atdis, “It would appear so.”

 

“Now, _now!_ Don't be a sore loser, _Trophy_!” Atdis laughed mockingly as he flourished his scythe readily, his fingertips flipping the handle through his hands with ease, “You _did_ last an aweful lot longer than I expected you to. _Eight hundred and fifty years_ _longer._ ” Atdis spat with discontent, lips pulled back in a snarl as his own steps halted.

 

“That was the point,” Madness confided easily, a smooth smile stretching at her blood coated lips, “ To d istract you.”  She added simply, as if Atdis were slow at thought.

 

Atdis cocked his head in challenge,  his  teeth gnashed in hatred, “Excuse me?” He dared,  flicking the blade of the scythe forward in irritation, forcing Madness's heels over the edge.

 

“ That ' _ toy'  _ you wanted is  **really** very far out of your reach now, isn't he?” She answered calmly.

 

“I expected more of a fight from you in the end, Madness. This is almost  _ disappointing. _ ”

 

“What is it you want to hear?” Madness goaded, a knowing grin touching her bloodied features, “That I've got some  _ trick _ up my sleeve? That I'm the notorious, fast thinking  _ Imposter of the Mad Tricksteress, Tasaria _ , and this is  _ not _ where I die? Do you expect me to vaunt my wit? My skills of opportunity?” Chuckling dryly, Madness stretched her arms outwards cockily, “Let's skip the dramatics.”

 

“So be it,” Atdis informed curtily, raising his scythe to do just that.

 

“But know this, Atdis The Unwed,” Madness halted his movements with a single, cunning smile, “What you want, what you crave, what you  _ need _ . It will never be yours.”

 

“The Power of a Nightmare goes to their defeater.” Atdis dictated boredly, “The one who deals the final blow claims the Power of the defeated Nightmare for their own. It isn't in your power to deny me this.” He informed adruptly, his very words pungent with distaste for the very idea of losing something as precious as Madness's Power.

 

Humming softly as if in thought, Madness lifted her hands before herself, calling her Power to her palms with the twitch of her fingertips. With a flick and a burst, her Power manifested itself between her spread palms, spinning softly as it danced in a web beautifully spun of purple, blue, red and black strings, beaded with white, glimmering gems.

 

It was no wonder that the inhabitants of Earth across the mirror's surface entitled the essence as 'Magic'.

 

Eyes filled with greed and lust, Atdis stepped forward with an outstretched hand, eager to claim the prize he imagined  _ his _ . Coyly, Madness pressed her hands together tightly, compressing the manifested power within her palms into a single, ordinary shape. Smug, Madness opened her fingertips, revealing the perfect imitation of a stone within her grasp, and displayed it proudly to Atdis.

 

“I'll take it with me.” Madness supposed, bouncing the stone within her palm before dangling the treasure over the cliff, “One stone, among a hundred, thousand, million more.”

 

“ **Give me the stone!** ” Atdis roared, his dark features turning a hateful red as he lurched forward, throwing a desperate, gauntlet clad hand out to pluck the prize from her grip.

 

Madness released the stone.

 

Atdis's fingertips grazed it briefly, before it plummeted.

 

“ Oops. Awefully slippery.”

 

“If you think,” Atdis started, trembling with anger as he eyed Madness with contempt, “That I will kill you for this, you are sorely wrong.” He informed, stepping steadily forward as he brandished his weapon, “I'll tear you apart, piece by piece. Then I'll stitch you back up and start over, you're awefully resiliant. I'm sure you'll survive for a good  _ eight hundred years _ or so.”

 

“And if I get bored,” Atdis considered dryly, “I'll curse you _again,_ **properly** this time-”

 

“As delightful as that sounds, I have an alternate proposal.”

 

“And that would be?” Atdis inquired boredly, a wicked grin stretching across his features as he considered all the immensely fun new ways to torment Madness. The only pity of the entire situation, he reflected, was that the two of them were the very last Nightmares in existance.

 

Perhaps he could remedy that, he toyed with the idea absently, finding that he really rather enjoyed the concept.

 

“Why, I'll just  take half a step backwards, and say 'Whoops!'  ”  Madness informed shortly before sliding her heels backwards half a pace, and plummetting with a well timed, “Whoops!” thrown Atdis's way.

 

Atdis screamed in childish rage before turning his back to the sight, unwilling to see his prize, his  _ trophy _ escape his grip forever.

 

It worked to her advantage, Madness considered, after all, it would be awefully anti-climactic if she were to actually  _ die _ .

 

No, she wasn't done yet.

 

She had at least one more trick up her sleeve,  _ literally _ .


	5. The Second Stone

 

_Beneath the closed haven of her sheltering fingertips, the spinning web of_ _Madness's manifested power compressed cunningly into not one, but_ _**two** _ _ stones. Deliberately, Madness rolled the rounded, electric stone into her  _ _**good** _ _ sleeve.  _ _ Madness took a moment to savor _ _ the delicious sensation of  _ _ her prized Power grazing her skin, leaving trails of electricity neither pleasurable nor painful,  _ _ before she opened her hands with a flourish and  _ _ directed  _ _ a grin Atdis's way. _

 

_It was time to put on a show._

 

Tumbling through the roaring air wildly, Madness withdrew her hidden stone from her tattered sleeve with her right hand. Expertly, Madness clutched the rounded stone firmly in hand as she raised her hand above her head. Spreading the fingertips of her left hand, Madness stretched the reality of the world before her loosely before sinking her nails into the very fabric of the world without compassion or mercy, holding the writhing thing still.

 

Power crackled through the air as Madness slammed the stone through the pinched cloth of the world. The forceful movement split a wide, fraying,  unseen hole through the entire fabric; sending Madness 's body tumbling through.

 

The first sensation that assaulted the disoriented woman, that she could discern, was the rather abrasive feeling of getting  _ bitch slapped in the face  _ by a tree branch. In a brutal attempt to slow her fall, twigs, branches, and heavier limbs ripped at the quickly falling form with clutching and bloodied fingers. This was all well and good, Madness considered quickly, that was, until a particularly stern and stubborn branch snagged her ankle  in the fall and  simply refused to let go.

 

The pained scream that ensued was hardly heard over the rather _impressive_ cracking noise that the shattered bone provided gruesomely as the _incredibly_ stubborn branch hung Madness upside down in its refusal to release her ankle.  Unsurprisingly, the pain loosened Madness's grip, prompting her numb fingertips to drop her Power onto the crunching grass just out of reach below. Rolling restlessly, the stone placed itself happily at the rather peculiarly decorated feet of a standing woman a single pace away.

 

Gold was the first thing that Madness saw as her vision cleared. The crime of bright, audacious, glistening _gold_.

 

She'd **never** liked the color.

 

And she _certainly_ didn't like the offensive shade  when it was placed in **apples,** of all things. Even if they _were_ placed in a rather fascinatingly woven basket.

 

_ Wait,  _ Madness frowned suddenly, her brow furrowing slowly  as  realization  dawned on the  subject wild sight  set before her ,  _**What?** _

 

Blankly, Madness stared at the woman that, to her swaying view, was upside down and eye level. The stranger, in Madness's opinion, was a petite little thing. Were the two women to stand beside one another in good natured comparision, Madness hadn't the slightest idea of a doubt that Madness wouldn't tower over the thin little picture easily. Balanced upon her hip was a rather large, flat basket, filled generously with gleaming _golden_ apples.

 

_ Yech. _ Madness grimaced, pulling her lips back in a disgusted wince.  _ Disgusting. _

 

The woman's hair fell in simple woven braids to her waist in golden locks, a rather pleasing sight, in Madness's opinion. Or, it would have been, had the shade dressing it been, well, anything other than _gold_. A crown of twisted, green leaves decorated her head in simplistic beauty, a stark contrast to the flowing white dress that was so entirely angelic and modest that it nearly strangled the woman at the same time as its long hem attempted to catch beneath her graceful feet and throw her into the dirt.

 

_ Poor little thing,  _ Madness thought  fondly in compassion,  _ Such a cute little picture of a woman,  _ _ even  _ _ despite the gold!  _ _ Why, s _ _ he's  _ _**cute** _ _!- _

 

“Fillern!” The woman swore quickly, staggering backwards in shock as she spilled more than a few apples in the quick and erratic movement.

 

“Baluitic!” Madness swore just as loudly as the woman before her had bellowed. “You have a rather unfortunate voice.” Madness concluded, shaking her head to clear the loud ringing within her ears, or at least _tried_ to for a single moment before she gave up, and simply held out her hands calmly to the babbling woman. In a panicked voice, the blonde woman prattled on and on in a wild language that Madness could not decipher.

 

The language, in Madness's opinion, was a rather unflattering one.

 

Groaning softly, Madness pressed her thumb and index fingers between her lips, whistling sharply, “Oi! Faevi! Listen here!” Madness exclaimed over the nonsense the  _ other  _ woman was spouting, “I just have to find the right language!  Okay? Okay.  You speak'n Greek?”  Madness guessed, “I know Greek. Been a while since I heard Greek, but I know it..”  Quietly, Madness considered the continued rambling  for a moment, before heaving a  deep sigh of frustration, “No? That doesn't sound Greek..”  She concluded in disappointment.

 

“ Ah,  _ Echit _ .. Alright,” She supposed finally,  holding out her hands in a gesture of  _ calm the fuck down,  _ “cheap, slippery, trickery route it is. That stone, hand it here.” Madness demanded, gesturing deliberately to the polished stone just out of her  dangling  hand's reach.

 

The blonde  stranger stubbornly continued to prattle and argue with Madness  in nonsense, gutteral words. Steadily,  her voice rais ed with alarm, as if simply speaking  _ louder _ would dis s appate the language barrier. “ **Faevi!** ” Madness  bellowed sharply , swaying slightly from the force of the outburst, “Listen here!”

 

“Quit panicking Faevi! I. Just. Need. That. Stone. Right. There.” Madness clarified bluntly, before groaning miserably upon noting the empty look within the other woman's eye, “You know what, Faevi? I've got it.” Madness decided, shaking her head as she outstretched her arm to the stone just _barely_ out of reach  with a stretched grimace, “I'll just gnaw off my own leg. It'll be faster.”

 

Blinking as if an idea had  suddenly dawned upon her, the blonde woman plucked the stone from before her feet and gently placed the trinket in Madness's bloodied palm.  Immediately, Madness plucked at the strings of Power woven into the stone, and imbued herself with  _ whatever the hell  _ language she was speaking.

 

“Can you understand me?”

 

“Can you understand me?”

 

Both women blinked as the other spoke in perfect sync to each other. The  two  of them  promptly decided they didn't particularly enjoy the odd little trick  of their mouths  very much.

 

“I can understand you!”

 

“I can understand you!”

 

Madness opened her mouth sharply to protest promptly, the same instant that a blonde little boy dashed from behind some _other_ tree that _didn't_ have a Nightmare hanging from it. Clutching a  sharpened stick in hand, the odd little child took to beating Madness against the head with it. Scowling, Madness dropped the stone from her dominant hand without a thought, catching the stick in an ill tempered and firm fist.

 

“What the _Hell_ do they _teach_ the _children_ here?” Madness demanded sharply as she tore the stick from the lesser grip of the little boy. He was, after all, just a _little boy_. “This is ridiculous.  Let me point out why, _Vivoy_ , before you repeat yourself so foolishly. I have had a _very_ long, _very_ painful day. Hitting others _three times_ your size, who is bruised, bloodied, and _mad_ , with a _twig_ is a dangerous, **dangerous** act.”  Madness warned venomously, her marred features pulled back in malice.

 

“Told you.” A second boy, a  smaller,  dark haired one muttered to the blonde as he stepped into Madness's line of sight.  _ How many Vivoys were BEHIND that tree? _

 

“Not now, Loki!”  The blonde boy snapped sourly at his companion before turning to Madness in a childish temper,  “I am not Vivoy! I am Thor! Son of Odin!”  He informed as if his heritage truly  _ mattered _ .

 

“Vivoy means  _ child _ . Are you not a  _ child, Thor _ ?”

 

“Er.. I uh..” Thor blinked, flushing brightly as he stammered over his own tongue, “Who are you?” He decided, puffing his chest slightly as he attempted to take charge of the situation determinatedly, “What are you doing here?”

 

_ What a cute little thing  _ _ he was!  _ Madness fawned silently, a pleased grin touching her features smugly,  _ After he was disarmed, that was. _

 

“Depends on where  ' _ here _ _ ' _ actually is.”  Madness dodged, swaying slightly from her ankle as she produced mocking air quotes with her free hands.

 

“Asgard, of course.”  Thor scoffed as if such was simple, common knowledge. “ You didn't answer my question!”

 

_ What's an Asgard?  _ Madness considered in bafflement before directing a disapproving look Thor's way. “You get your way entirely too often, huh?”

 

Loki grinned under his breath at the comment, his smaller shoulders shaking slightly with withheld laughter as he plucked the stone from the soil. “ Oi! That,  _ that _ is  **mine** .” Madness informed curtly, directing a seething glare to the dark haired boy before her. Rolling the stone in his careful fingers, Loki observed Madness with interested eyes, “Is it?” He prompted mock innocently.

 

“What do they  _ teach _ you  _ children _ here?” Madness scolded in disdain, baring her teeth in disgust, “You're all little  _ vagabonds  _ and  _ thieves _ ! That is  _ my _ stone. A gift from my son, Archeon, if you must know.  _ Give it here. _ ”

 

“Why would your son give you a rock?” Loki inquired,  rolling the stone within his palms ignorantly.  _ Apparently, the natives of this.. Asgard. Couldn't feel Nightmare Power. _

 

_It was the first thing to go right, in nearly five hundred years._

 

_Hopefully, her astounding streak of luck would hold up._

 

“Why would a random little boy want to  _ steal _ a rock?”

 

“You're not answering the question. Again.” Loki retorted.

 

“You're really very insistent.” Madness insisted.

 

“You're making a habit of it.” Loki accused.

 

“This isn't an interrigation.” Madness corrected sternly.

 

“You've got to answer us! We're the princes of-” Thor started before stopping suddenly under Madness's ill amused look.  _ By Tasaria this one got his way much too often. _

 

“ Oh, be quiet now. Go do something productive, like picking up those apples. You ever try picking up something in a dress that length? It's hell. Get those damn apples  for the nice lady .”  Madness blinked upon realizing her not so vulgar swear, wincing softly as she considered the number of children present. “Oops. Err. Heck, and Darn.” She corrected the swear beneath the seething glare of the blonde woman.

 

Thor breathed a sigh of irritation before turning to the blonde woman, plucking the spilled apples from the damp soil and placing them back in the basket (having to stand upon the tops of his toes to do so) as he spoke to the woman (primarily to ask her what it WAS like to wear such a long dress and try to pick something up).

 

As it turned out, the woman's name was  _ Idun _ .

 

“As for you,  _ Loki _ .”  Madness grunted as she pulled herself upwards, clutching at the snapping branches to gain height and leverage, “Archeon gave me that stone as a charm for protection the day I left on a  _ very heroic adventure _ that consisted primarily of retrieving a stolen item of legendary proportion.”  She explained, lifting her broken ankle from the crook within the  _ stubborn _ branch,

 

It was rather conveniant she couldn't feel a thing, as most Nightmares once tended to do after an injury had been sustained. It provided a certain.. Charm, to the combat.

 

A certain ruthlessness.

 

“ Sweet boy, really, I couldn't just tell him  _ no. _ ”

 

“You're lying.”  Loki accused bluntly.

 

Madness's fingers slipped, dumping the woman unceremoniasly onto the ground. Groaning, Madness directed a baffled look to the dark haired child in wide eyed shock,  “… You can  _ tell?” _


	6. A Thief, Liar and Assassin- Or Simply Unlucky?

Thor leaned over Madness's body with fascination, a golden apple clutched in his small palm to mark his abandoned chore, “Hey.” He started conversationally, “Are you an assassin?”

 

Madness groaned bitterly from below  in disbelief , “ You thought I was an  _assassin_ . So you came at me with a  _twig_ ?  Assassins are not renown for their  _patience_ . ”

 

“It was a rather  _large_ stick!” Thor defended sharply.

 

“ She's not an assassin, Thor.  Assassins don't get stuck in trees . ” Loki retorted simply, looming over the other side of Madness's tired form  to peer at his companion . “ Besides, you shouldn't hit possible assassins with  _sticks_ .”

 

“I 'm not allowed to carry real weapons yet!” Thor argued sourly, crossing his arms over his chest in aggravation, “You keep chasing  all of the Weapon Masters off..”

 

“I can't be blamed if they can't take a prank!” Loki threw back quickly, “Besides, you skip half  of the lessons, anyway!”

 

“Well.” Madness concluded  bluntly  from where she lay, “ You two must be brothers.”

 

Groaning softly, Madness forced her bleeding feet beneath herself in an exhausted stagger, that very nearly appeared as if she were drunken. Directing a tired grumbling rant at the entire world in general, Madness stood reluctantly. 

 

Heaving a deep breath, Madness  took to  patt ing her torn and tattered pockets and pouches, “Ah.. Now, where did I put those… Ah!” She grinned pleasantly  upon locating the prize , producing three glass globes approximately the size of one's fist  dramatically just a moment later . 

 

“For your troubles,” She explained as she  gently tossed the first to Idun, “For picking up the apples,” Madness tossed the second to Thor  in reward , “ And f or being  _really_ very clever.” Madness confided with a  secretive grin as she handed the last orb to Loki  grandly .

 

“ These are simple little trinkets were I come from, but impressive little things, none the less.” Madness explained as the three turned the little treasures in their baffled palms in interest  and fascination , “They're called Dream Drips. They capture dreams, and replay them at your whim. Enjoy.”

 

“Now, if you'll excuse me,” Madness strode forward, limping painfully on her broken ankle as she did so, “I simply _MUST_ be going.” She informed bluntly before snatching her stone from Loki's loose grip (much to his protest) before bouncing it softly in her hand to punctuate her point, turning upon her uninjured heel. Only to find herself face to face with a small army of regally dressed guard clad in, of all the colors to pick from, _gold._ Each bearing weapons of spears, swords, and the like intimidatingly held in Madness's direction. And none of them looked particularly amused.

 

“Or..” Madness blinked softly, “I  _suppose_ I could stay a little while longer.” She added as if it were a hard, drawn out choice.

 

O oOoOoOoOoOo

 

Madness was clad in clattering chains before being marched down the hall that led, cliché enough, towards a really rather impressive throne overlooking the glittering interior of a grand, ornate castle.

 

With a roof that was really very impractical.

 

“ You ever lose birds up there?” Madness inquired curiously as she peered upwards, narrowing her eyes to the endless abyss of black that loomed above. The guards swarming at Madness's heels shot her a venomous look before halting her painfully before the steps leading towards the throne. “What?” Madness chuckled softly, holding up her hands with a loud clatter of chains, “It's an honest question!”

 

The greying man sitting formally upon the  _golden_ throne seemed to disagree.

 

“You were found in Idun's Gardens. Stealing apples.” The aged man accused, as if speaking of dire matters. Perhaps, Madness considered, it was a taboo for themselves for outsiders to pluck the apples. What an odd thing to be protective of, Madness imagined as her gaze wandered about the room in annoyance. Standing to one side of the throne stood little Thor and Loki, firmly under the guard of a rather beautiful woman with gold hair who regarded Madness with careful hostility.

 

Well, if they were going to chain her up; they'd better be ready for a clatter.

 

“ And  _you_ were found on a throne, marching an injured woman down an absurdly long hallway.” Madness quipped, stretching her arms outward in a dramatic gesture designed to flood the hall with the grating noise of clattering chains. “This is an ill time for jokes.” The man declared, narrowing his eyes (well, EYE. As he only had one of them) at Madness in dislike.

 

Madness considered this for a moment before raising her hands in a mock impeachment, “Are you sitting on a throne?” She inquired, gesturing grandly to the centerpiece of the room with a defeaning clatter  eminatting from the chains wrapped around her wrists and ankles , “Do I look injured?” Madness directed her hands to her  bloodied and marred body noisily, “Is your hallway  _absurdly_ long?” She challenged, throwing a  grand, defeaning gesture to the distant,  _distant_ end of the hall behind her, “Who's joking?” She inquired innocently, offering a charming grin the man's way.

 

“And I am to believe that you are  _innocent_ ?”  The man above inquired with an aged voice as he turned Madness's stone within his hand absently.

 

“Of  _this_ crime? Yes.”

 

“Prove yourself, then.”  The man challenged simply.

 

“Idun, the  _charming_ woman I was supposedly stealing from, seems to be severely lacking,  well, a  general  loss of apples!”  Madness pointed out, rattling the chains loudly as she spoke, the noise under the guise of yet  _another_ grand gesture.

 

“You were found hanging upside down from her trees, I  have been told .”

 

“Well,  _that_ part's true.”

 

“ Then e xplain  it .” He demanded,  his  voice booming with power.

 

Oh, hell.. Her stone was as good as gone. Tricking it out of  _him_ was going to be a  **nightmare** .

 

Madness gave a mocking grin sharply,  “ Oh, I don't think so. So many questions, so few manners.. Let's turn the tables for a moment. It's y our turn to answer a question.”  Madness challenged pleasantly, clattering the chains at her wrists grandly, “ Who-”  _ Clang clang,  _ “A re-”  _ Clang, clang, clack!  _ “ Y ou?”

 

“Odin, The AllFather.”  Odin proclaimed, wincing noticably at the cutting ring of the chains as the sharp noise echoed through the grand hall.

 

“Impressive name.” Madness informed before shrugging curtly, “Believe it or not, but I didn't land in a tree on purpose. Allow me to elaborate. I was in _dire_ trouble, so I opened a portal. I was aiming for.. Well.. Anywhere else. Wound up here.”

 

“ To be honest,” Madness directed a look Loki's way, noting miserably her inability to  _lie._ “ I've never heard of Asgard, or any of the other realms your  _charming_ guards have demanded to know if I'm from. It, would appear, that I travelled  _a bit_ farther than I  had intended, knew about, or ever expected.”

 

“How is it that you've managed that?” Odin watched in ill amusement as Madness took to simply shaking the chains as if testing their sound. In truth, the  blaring  noise was getting a bit hard to hear over.

 

Regardless, she  mercilessly continued. Their fault, really.

 

“I had a Power source.” Madness evaded simply.  It wasn't a lie.

 

It just depended upon how you  _said_ it.

 

“And this power source, where is it now?”

 

“Lost to me.”  _As of right now,_ “As it turns out, this was  _quite_ a journey.”

 

“Where is it you hail from?” Odin leaned forward slightly in interest as he adjusted his hold on the staff in his hand.  Apparently women didn't fall out of their trees very often in Asgard.

 

_How dull life must be here,_ Madness considered.

 

“Daxidaille.”  Madness informed shortly. After all, there was no harm in a  _name_ .

 

“I have never heard of this realm. Lying to me would be unwise.”  Odin growled, narrowing his eyes in impatience at her uninformative answers. Decidedly unwilling to point out that the clatter of the shifting chains was getting perhaps a  _little_ bit annoying.

 

“And a bit impossible,” Madness pointed out, gesturing towards the children to Odin's side, “That's why Loki's here, isn't it? Because he catches lies?  Judging from  _that_ look, I'm right.” Madness laughed good naturedly before turning to the woman standing protectively over the children. 

 

Their mother, without a doubt.

 

“And from the look on  _her_ face, you've done a bit of lying on your own! She looks quite annoyed at you using her children, Odin.” Madness warned with a cunning grin stretching across her features as she noisily adjusted her weight from her injured leg, “But I digress,  I've never heard of Asgard, so we're even  as far as that goes . It appears to me that I've teleported out of MY realm, the one called The Nightmare Realm by humans, and into  _yours_ .  Typically, m y teleporting ability locks onto the most advanced race  nearby. It's a.. Y seful perk to keep teleporters from drifting about in aimless space. I find it rather odd to appear here,”  Madness heaved a sigh, turning towards the guards at her sides in mock confusions, “ A s your guards are only equipped with pointed  _sticks_ and  _swords_ .”

 

“Do all Nightmares hold this ability?” Odin frowned as he leaned back in the throne, clearly the idea that an army of Nightmares would drop out of the sky, land in various golden trees, and wreck havoc crossed his mind in that instant. “To be unimpressed by your advancements in architecture, battle, and weaponry? Yes.” Madness quipped shortly with a grin before spreading her arms dramatically, “As for teleporting, you're mistaken, no. Nightmares are- were,” She corrected herself simply, “A dying race. There was simply myself and one man left. And he, well, he's not a quick study. The fool couldn't even figure out The Mirror without _my_ assistance.”  Madness gnashed her teeth in quiet rage before calming herself with a long breath, “None shall follow me, and if they do, I'll gladly spear them through with a curtain rod.” Madness smiled maliciously.

 

“Not a spear?”

 

“Spears are pointed. Dull weapons  _hurt_ more.”

 

Odin considered this for a moment as he turned the stone within his hand in a manner that had Madness wincing across the room.  _Couldn't people treat the damn thing_ _**nicely?** _ _ Was that too much to ask?  _ “And what of the second claim to your name? That you are an assassin?”  He prodded, though he already suspected an account of denial.

 

“You are clearly very inexperianced in assassins. I take it you're a  _beloved_ king!”  Madness laughed dryly, “ Allow me to educate you.  Firstly, assassins don't go after children first. They go after the big guy, then work their way down. It's useless to kill the offspring if the monarch is still around. There's no change in power.”  Madness explained, much to the annoyance of Odin as she raised one hand, condescendingly holding up one fingertip as if counting.

 

“ Secondly, your children are unharmed, despite providing me  _ample_ opportunity to kill them both. The blonde one attacked me with a  _stick_ for the sake of Tasaria! If I had wanted them dead, or had a shorter temper that I have, I wouldn't be standing here being  _accused_ of being an assassin. You'd have taken my head off by now, or stone me to death, or whatever the hell  you people do here, I'm sure it's  _very_ advanced. Like your weaponry.”  Madness held up her second fingertip with a condescending smile. “Really. Impressive stuff.”

 

“Thirdly, as the dark haired one pointed out; Assassins don't get stuck in  _trees_ .”  Madness finished, gesturing sideways towards Loki with a pointed look.

 

“Very well,”  Odin indulged thoughtfully, “Then it  appears that the chains should be removed and a healer is to be called.” Barely were the words spoken before the guards withdrew the keys with excited hands, eagerly unchaining the woman  as fast as they possibly could. Even dropping the keys more than once in their delight .  Wincing,  Madness rubbed her wrists with a deliberate look to the tender skin the instant the chains were removed.  Oh, she had no idea how she'd get her stone back..

 

“No healers.” Madness expressed, boredly noting the unimpressed look on Odin's face  as her mind spun madly on the consequences of losing her Power indefinately. Pain would return in the event of injury, she knew that much. That, and in the case of Atdis locating her, it would prove rather difficult to 'run him through with a curtain rod' in her current state.

 

This was not good.

 

“I'm strange that way.” Madness confided with a dry grin. “I see.” Odin concluded, looking to the guards beside Madness commandingly, “She is to be escorted to the Bifrost for Midgard, after providing further information on Daxidaille to the scholars.”

 

_Like that'd happen,_ Madness thought to herself with a hidden smile. The moment Loki was gone, there was truly nothing to stop her from lying  _so much_ that her tongue fell out of her  mouth .  And  _oh_ how she'd enjoy it.

 

“Actually,” Madness countered, “I have a preposition for you. You see, I'm running from a man of my past, fascinating story really, I'll spare you the details. I'm far older than he is, far more clever and far more knowledgable. And I've never even _heard_ of Asgard. Allow me to remain here,” Madness beseeched, spreading her arms grandly (and savoring the silence of the action) “And I shall agree to any restrictions, requests or tasks that you ask of me, as well as improve trade, weaponry and armor. I have noticed that while Asgard has a market place for other 'realms' goods, Midgard, Earth, and it's other connecting planets are not included.”

 

“That is because there is nothing of worth to us upon Midgard.”

 

“You just don't know where to look! I have the experience  that  your people lack in this area. Give me a single week, and your weapons will cleave through even the finest of armors, and destroy even the finest of warriors in a single,  grazing hit. If you are unsatisfied, I'll simply leave. Easy.”

 

“You have one week.” Odin decided, “If this proves useless, you will leave. You will be escorted by a guard at all times until such a time as you can prove you are no assassin, liar, or thief.” He raised a hand as if expected an outburst, “Your word doesn't count. You're either a liar, a theif, _and_ an assassin, or simply _extroadinarily_ unlucky. If anyone gets hurt from your actions, directly or not, you'll face Asgardian punishment. Your time here will be spent  in Asgardian appearance, in clothing and form at all times. If you bring war, or this man that you mentioned follows after you, you will find no shelter here. As for your stone,” He turned it in his hand thoughtfully, his brow furrowing in confusion as to what was so special about the trivial thing, “Will be locked away in a secure location until you choose to explain what it is to me.”

 

“Agreed.”  Madness announced without a hint of reluctance.

 

“What is it you are called?”

 

“The Greeks named me Chimonas.  H ere, I suppose that translates to Winter. Winter Mills will have to suffice.”

 

“ So be it.”


	7. Lost Superstitions

“Rise and shine!” Loki bellowed with a sarcastic cheerfulness as he slammed the door to Winter's apartment open with a loud bang that rang through the tight apartment decisively. “Well,” He considered thoughtfully as he ducked his head through the low hanging, crooked door frame, “As much _shine_ as this depressive, cramped space will allow..”  He added with disdain after a thought.

 

Winter's sleeping form across the room shifted slightly beneath the pile of warm blankets, drowsily ignoring the loud, echoing voice that bounded with a wall shaking volume through the cramped space. That, when paired with the sudden flood of invasive light that slipped past Loki's form from the hall; Would have roused even the _dead_ from their eternally slumber.

 

Loki 's  cheerful  grin fell  from his features  adruptly  as he considered the impressive task set before him.  _Winter was a NIGHTMARE to wake up._

 

_And_ _**that** _ _was coming from an_ _**Asgardian** _ _. _

 

Loki groaned in exasperation  as he raised a hand  to irritatedly pinch the bridge of his nose.

 

_ This was going to be  _ _**impossible.** _

 

“Winter!  Hey! Wake up!” Loki  exclaimed  as he took to clapping h is hands  incredibly loudly  in spite , “ Come on, now!  We're going to be  _ late _ !”  He shouted with an exaggerated volume, only to  groan as Winter's sprawled form simply  edged further beneath the comfortable blankets, despite the  ringing noise  that had every neighbor within the building shifting foul temperedly and protesting loudly in  retort.

 

“You've got to be kidding me..” Loki grumbled sourly as he strode towards the 'living room' in his frustration, “Wake up! No one sleeps _this_ deeply. It's ridiculous!” Loki berated bitterly as he staggered forward, taking a moment to blink shockedly before he tripped over the love seat with a loud crash, some how managing to slam his skull loudly into the roof above before crashing into the armrest of the couch itself, the wall to the side of the aggressive furniture piece, and finally landing heavily on the floor in a tangled, complaining heap.

 

“I'm actually rather pleased that you weren't awake to see that.”  Loki  grunted bluntly from the ground.

 

The ceiling fan above groaned thoughtfully, as if considering the massive, skull shaped hole in its supporting area upon the ceiling and adjacent wall for a long moment, before deciding adruptly that the  _ miniscule _ change in its support was excuse enough  to plummet onto Loki's body below. The weighted ceiling fan,  in its plummet,  was kind enough to bring half of the roof's plaster down with it.

 

“Or that.” Loki added with a pained grimace, now coated in a fine, foul smelling plaster. “ _ Very  _ glad that you weren't awake to see  _ that _ .”

 

“Enough games.” Loki grumbled darkly as he rose, sourly dusting himself free of the fine, disgustingly clinging rubble in a bitter huff. “It's back to the basics, then.” He decided, turning on his heel to stalk into the 'kitchen' with determination. Banging the cupboards open sharply, Loki plucked two pans from the crowded pantry while making a point to smash the contents of the cupboard about in a rather impressive racket.

 

Winter silently snuck further beneath the pile of blankets across the room, drawing her outstretched arm underneath the bedding as her sleep continued uninterrupted.

 

“Well,” Loki considered, turning the pans before his assessing gaze as he strode towards the bed, “This worked a thousand years or so ago. I see no reason why it shouldn't work _now._ ” Loki pondered thoughtfully with a mature mind, before slamming the pots together over Winter's head like a complete child.

 

_Bang!_

 

_Bang!_

 

_Bang!_

 

_Clang!_

 

_Clank!_

 

_Bang!_

 

_Bang!_

 

_Tink!_

 

Loki frowned, glancing at the now incredibly dented pots within his grip, each bent grotesquely out of shape. “That is _not_ fair.” Loki condemned sourly, directing a seething glare to Winter's peaceful features in a childish tantrum.

 

“ _So be it._ ” Loki growled in a foul temper as he spun on his heel, stalking into the 'kitchen' imposingly. Before, of course, tripping over the fallen ceiling fan, which brought him to stagger into the counter top rather _un_ imposingly

 

Spitting vile curses, Loki shot the incredibly dented counter top a despicable glare as he filled the least horribly twisted pot to the brim with cold water from the cluttered sink. Choosing his steps with more care, Loki balanced the water cautiously as he stalked pointedly around the fallen ceiling fan. 

 

“Sleep through  _ this _ .” Loki challenged as he  overturned the pot of water over Winter's blissfully asleep features bluntly.

 

And much to his shock,  _ she  _ _ **did** _ _. _

 

“Oh-” Loki sputtered, “For the love of- You've got to be- I can't even fathom-  _ **What the Hel?!** _ ”

 

Winter raised an uncoordinated, sleep guided hand,  as she brushed  her dripping hair from her features clumsily. 

 

Loki groaned in  frustration. Only to brighten at the thought of a rather promising idea.

 

Or rather, a rather promising memory.

 

_ Loki was sulking; To say the least. _

 

_ He  _ _ **understood** _ _ that his father needed him to observe Winter's conversation with the scholars on the topic of Daxi- Daxid- .. Daxi something.. To ensure she was going to tell the truth. _

 

_ He  _ _ **understood** _ _ that it would only take a few hours. _

 

_ What his father  _ _ **didn't understand** _ _ was that it was  _ _ **immensely boring** _ _. _

 

_ “Yes,” Winter rubbed her head in exasperation, dismissing a growing headache, “We d _ _ id _ _ have three goddesses…  _ _ Goddesses are _ _ deities.. All powerful, hilariously overpowered women.. It's a confusing concept. Let's get to something more simple.” Winter informed bluntly. _

 

_“Simple?” The scholar asked bluntly._

 

_ “Well, the reason humans don't sleep with their foot outside of their blankets it because of us.  _ _ Simple enough. _ _ ” Winter informed with some degree of pride towards the subject. _

 

_ “Humans  _ _ don't have a superstition against sleeping with their foot outside of the blankets.” The Scholar dismissed with a bored flick of his pen across the paper. _

 

_“The smart ones certainly do!”Winter grinned knowingly._

 

_“Explain why, then.” The scholar decided with raised, interested eyebrows._

 

_ “It's going to give the kid nightmares.” Winter dismissed, throwing a hand to the boy at the scholar's side in a grand gesture. “And, as funny as  _ _ **that** _ _ joke is; Nightmare chick giving people nightmares,  _ _ **hilarious.** _ _ It's not down my alley.” _

 

_ “My name's  _ _ **Loki** _ _ , not  _ _ **the kid** _ _!” Loki protested, “And I've heard a thousand terrifying tales that chill the blood of  _ _ **warriors** _ _! Bring it on!” The boy challenged boldly. _

 

_ Winter sighed, leaning backwards slightly in her chair, “And a young boy couldn't  _ _ **possibly** _ _ have a lapse in judgement? But I digress.. Your parents clearly had a lapse in judgement in allowing you to sit in on this. Must run in the family; so there's nothing for it”  _ _ Winter considered for a long moment before she grinned indulgently, “ _ _ Let me tell you a story.” _

 

_ “Well before either of you were born, yes, even you, you wrinkled prune of a man, there were three Goddesses that strode across Daxidaille's luscious soil. Tasaria, The Mad Tricksteress-” _

 

_“Trickst-” The scholar started incredulously._

 

_“Interrupt me again, I dare you.” Winter challenged with a violent glare towards the man sitting before her, “I haven't cut out a man's tongue in a while. I do so hope that I haven't lost the art.” Winter shot the scholar a sickly sweet, demented grin._

 

_The scholar shut his mouth with an audible snap._

 

_Loki blinked in shock, his interested smile dropped at the seams._

 

_“Erm,” Winter swallowed, looking to Loki with sudden realization, “I meant- well,” She stammered before giving up in frustration, “Oh hell.. There's no saving that. Let's just get back to the story.”_

 

_ “Here,  _ _ in Asgard _ _ , I've heard that the word Tricksteress has been made, 'masculine'. It's cute. It really is! But we came up with it first, you sweet things! Here, it means someone who plays a few pranks every now and again. To Nightmares? Well, the meaning's a bit more..  _ _ **Intense** _ _. _

 

_ “There's only  _ _ **one** _ _ Tricksteress. The  _ _ **feminine** _ _ version of the word exclusively means, 'someone you don't want to piss off'. The masculine version of the word means 'someone you  _ _ **do** _ _ want to piss off.'. Ah, happenstance.. _

 

_ “I'm getting distracted, alas. Tasaria plucked the stars from the sky, and forged them into a single trinket for her absent pleasure. The HellCast _ _ e _ _ r  _ _ was nearly as bad. She tore apart cities, only to rebuild them as it interested her. And then, of course, there was Death.  _

 

_“Enough said._

 

_ “These three found themselves plagued by a particular nuisance, called the Rysii. To phrase it gently, The Rysii.. Desired a purpose. And if it were to include the destruction of The Three, than all the more  _ _ **fun** _ _. _

 

_ “Now, bear in mind, Nightmares once travelled through mirrors to snatch the humans that peered through, or to toy with their minds as they slept. We were seen, since the first time we appeared, as  _ _ **demons** _ _. _

 

_ “And The Rysii was a  _ _ **demon** _ _ to  _ _ **demons** _ _.  _

 

_“It was really very impressive._

 

_ “So The Three gave him a purpose; Children. The Rysii was tasked with collecting children or  _ _ to _ _ travel to the world of humans to acquire the means to- er..  _ _ **craft** _ _ them through  _ _ invading _ _ the dreams of the humans. _

 

_ “ _ _ And The Rysii collected  _ _ **a lot of them** _ _. _

 

_ “Still don't know where that little Oprit-” Winter stopped adruptly, taking a moment to stare at Loki bluntly, “… Buddy..” She corrected herself, “Took those children. No one's seen any of them again. Or the women and men The Rysii stole for the, well,  _ _ **ingrediants** _ **.** _ The Rysii stole anyone he could, truly. _

 

_ “The superstition stems from the way that the various humans were stolen  _ _ by The Rysii _ _.  _ _ The Rysii couldn't move the blankets themselves, but if someone's ankle stuck out even slightly from their sheets, they'd be dragged, kicking and screaming into the nearest mirror and into the hellish world of Daxidaille. _

 

_ “ _ _ I  _ _ have  _ _ always assumed humans continued the practice; as The Rysii  _ _ remains at large, and very interested in the sport. _ _ ” _

 

_ Loki blinked in complete and utter terror before dashing out of the room with pounding footsteps, “ _ _ **MOTHER!** _ _ ” _

 

_ “ _ _ Now l _ _ ook at what you've  _ _ gone and _ _ done.” Winter  _ _ turned, _ _ scold _ _ ing _ _ the scholar sternly  _ _ with a glare _ _. _

 

Loki rounded to the end of the bed, pulling back the blankets to Winter's ankle in careful thought, “If this doesn't work, I have no idea what will.” Loki considered with a sigh before firmly wrapping his fingers around Winter's warm ankle in a stern, unyielding hold.

 

_ Click _ .

 

Loki looked up in interest, finding himself staring down the barrel of a loaded pistol.

 

Translation:

 

Oprit – Is the interrupted form of the word, Opritain, which means 'horribly vile, disgusting wretch of a twisted, demonic person born of incest and animal fetishes.'


End file.
